PLEASE READ
GUIDELINES
BEFORE INTERATCION.


SELECTIVE.
LOW ACTIVITY.
OPEN TO MULTIPLE VERSES, SHIPS,
AND CROSSOVERS.

#FORJUSTTICE

INDEPENDENT CLARICE STARLING
OF THOMAS HARRIS'
THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS AND HANNIBAL.

                       [ They killed him. ] ✕✕ 

fbihound continued from here.

        throughout the years of dedication it took to acquire
    the title of fbi trainee, never had one mentioned getting
    away from the practice. it’s not curious that one such
    as will graham would proffer equivocal words, but
    starling thinks (hopes ) that it is a byproduct of dr.
    lecter’s cruelties. the good doctor is incarcerated.
    he wouldn’t do starling the same. would he?

image

        “ i don’t think i’ll be getting away any time soon.”

Input.

[ fbihound ]

       this last week has not been kind to will graham. he didn’t sleep well. he
       doesn’t really sleep well at all anymore, but even the alcohol didn’t help
       this time. it’s just him and the dogs and the boat motors, and none of his
       normal vices help. 

       take a drink. pick up the wrench. try to stop his hands from shaking. fail
       at that. scratch behind one of the dog’s ears for a while. realize his hands
       are still shaking. take another drink. don’t look in the mirror as he washes
       his hands. try not to think about years ago. try not to think at all.

       he’s considering breaking something when he hears the dogs boof quietly
       –the warning noise that someone approaches. maybe if he broke some-
       -thing he’d feel better. he’s pretty sure that any visitor coming for him, at
       this point, isn’t going to be someone he wants to see. at least he’s been up
       for a while, and so he’s fully clothed. he gets the shotgun and leans it up
       against the wall beside the door. he only answers at the knock.

       he’d seen plenty of trainees in his day as a professor, to be able to spot that
       fresh hunger now. she looks mostly calm. young and green, no experience,
       no idea how this will go. still faithful yet, that the fbi will keep her under their
       wing, that they won’t string her up to bleed. in contrast, his voice scratchy
       from misuse, the gravel in it from years of exhaustion:

image

                              “ is there something i can help you with? ”

        Her mind will not  attempt to refrain from detecting something  akin  to bitterness
    nestled within other’s spoken syllables, try to pinpoint something behind this man’s
    tired eyes  that is not  being said. Starling  mentions naught of  the subject, though;
    instead  focuses on the task yet to be dealt with at  hand and proffers a  sharp nod
    of head. Once.

        Don’t fidget, keep calm. What harm is there in a few questions? None? None.
    Is that a dog?

        Curious eyes  resist the  temptation to flicker about the home, then, scan the
    man’s clothing, scrutinize  the various canines  lounging, standing, and  looking
    at her. ( At least they don’t talk back. ) She inwardly pats herself on the back for
    maintaining  her  composure  and  a  ghost of  a twitch of  lips is  rid of in  a hot
    second.

“ Will Graham.” Not quite a question, but a short-lived ascent of tone rounds off
    the ex-agent’s  name anyway. “My name is Clarice Starling.”  Back to  customary,
    solemn timbre now. She keeps a tense hold on the papers in her right hand as the
    left  slips  a  temporary  badge from the inner pocket  of her outdated ( black  and
    brown and blue… ) windbreaker.

image

“ I’ve been assigned to a special case and I’d like
                                          to ask you a few questions, if that’s all right.” 

        Badge of embarrassment, be it only in front of The
                  Good Doctor, is tucked inside of her pocket.

HW